The Dragonlord's Son
by GirlFromNorth
Summary: Balinor swears the day started off as normal, but suddenly he's got a stubborn past lover outside his cave, a reckless magical son in a kingdom that hates magic, and a restless dragon chained underneath a castle. He's way too old for this.
1. Chapter 1

**Now this was _supposed_ to be a chapter in Of Glasses and Tea Bags (don't worry, I'll get back to that story soon!), but since I'm thinking this will be a two-shot or three-shot, I decided it got to be a separate story. ****Anyway; today is Father's Day in Finland, so I'm celebrating. By posting a fanfic about Balinor (I think this is an excellent way to celebrate Father's day). And with Balinor comes Hunith, because I absolutely adore her and I want more fics about these two adorable beings.**

 **Set somewhere in season 2** **, because Balinor's alive, Morgana's not evil, and Kilgharrah is still stuck underneath the castle.**

* * *

There's a woman outside the cave.

Now, this in itself is a very unordinary situation _(since women generally don't show up in the middle of nowhere next to his bloody cave_ ), but this isn't just any woman. Balinor feels frozen in place, mouth gaping like a fool, and he's pretty sure he's seconds away from fainting from the shock because lords, he hasn't seen her in…. far too many years.

It's Hunith.

Her dark hair is escaping the green headscarf, and though said hair has a few strands of grey and her familiar face is carved with new lines, she's as beautiful as he remembers. Balinor places a numb, shaking hand over the hilt of his sword – for comfort, strength or defence, he doesn't know, but he can't seem to grasp the fact that she's here _(part of him is already readying him for finding out it's_ _ **not**_ _her, but some sort of shapeshifter or other cruel creature about to suck out his soul)_.

Her eyes haven't changed; they're still dark and fierce and they're staring straight into his own, and Balinor tries to say something.

"Balinor," she greets, voice warm and kind and god, he'd almost forgotten how much he's missed her. He tries to reply but fumblingly stammers over the very first syllable, and mentally slaps himself. For god's sake, he meets the woman he loves for the first time in twenty years, and he can't even muster up a bloody hello.

"…Hunith?" he finally whispers, voice cracking and for some reason, the only thing he can think of is that he wishes he had trimmed his beard this morning.

"You have no idea how bloody hard it was to get here," she states briskly. "Really, Balinor? A bloody _**cave**_?"

"I… didn't really have a list of possible new accommodations," he says faintly.

Hunith smiles softly at him, smoothing out the wrinkled brow, and takes a few slow steps closer, as though approaching a spooked animal. "It's good to see you again," she says, and really, what the hell is he doing in the first place, standing stock still with his hand on his sword hilt? He strides forward and throws his arms around her, bending down to bury his face in her hair _(apparently he'd also forgotten how short she was)_ and relishes in the way her slim arms encircle his waist in turn. He doesn't know how long they stand embracing each other, but he knows he should probably… oh, he doesn't know; ask how she found him, why she searched for him, how she's been, tell her he loves her – or is the love part to soon _(too late)_? It's been two decades, there's no telling if she's married or not – although, if she was married, why on earth would she run around in the forest searching for a past lover? Balinor gives himself another mental slap. _You're a grown man, not a love-struck teenager, for pity's sake_ , he tells himself. _Get a grip._

"Hunith," he starts, stepping out of the embrace while still keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Why – what brings you here? And for that matter, how did you get here?"

Hunith sighs and closes her eyes briefly. "There's not really a way to ease you into this," she mutters and blows a stray away from her face. She stares blankly at something past his shoulder before focusing on Balinor again, and then gives him a positively _beaming_ smile. "Balinor, you have a son."

 **oOoOo**

He blanks out for a while _(he may or not have been hyperventilating, but Hunith's kind enough to not mention it_ ), but all in all he thinks he deserves to panic a little. He ends up sitting in moss and leaning against a tree trunk while Hunith crouches before him, patiently talking to him and coaxing him towards a calmer state.

"So," Balinor manages to say as he's calmed down, letting out a slight huff of disbelieving laughter, "I have a son. I'm… I'm a father."

"That's right."

"What's… What's his name?"

She smiles again, and he marvels at the joy filling her eyes at the thought of her – _**their**_ son. "Merlin. His name is Merlin."

"You named our son after a bird?" Balinor teases and pokes her in the side.

Hunith lightly slaps his hand. "It's a perfectly acceptable name."

"It's a very nice name," he quickly assures her. "I'm sure it fits him."

"It does," she says, suddenly serious again. "It's an odd name for an odd boy."

And just like that, Balinor's world is plunged into ice cold water. Somehow, he managed to completely overlook the fact that oh, _right_ , he's a bloody dragonlord; not only does he now have an heir, but…

"Does he have magic?" Balinor asks lowly, as though the trees themselves could carry the words to the wrong ears. Because of the dragonlord blood in their veins, being gifted with magic is far from uncommon _(well, it_ _ **wasn't**_ _uncommon, while dragonlords still were alive)._ Oh, but he so wishes to spare his son from an existence of fear, but he's afraid he already knows the answer.

"Yes," she replies, and Balinor lets his head thud back against the trunk. "Powerful magic. Balinor, he was _born_ with it; he was moving around things with his mind when he was just a few months old."

Balinor leans forward so fast he almost knocks his head against Hunith's _(accidentally giving her a nosebleed would have been a bit awkward, and certainly not a good thing to give the woman you love)_. "He's a _warlock_? I haven't met a warlock in… well, they were rare even _before_ the Purge."

"Merlin mentioned something about warlocks in one of his letters, yes."

Balinor stands up, discreetly brushing dirt off his trousers. He waves awkwardly towards the cave. "Do you… we could talk over dinner, if you'd like?"

Really, it's only an excuse to have something to do with his hands, because he hasn't felt this jittery since the first time he'd had to use his dragonlord powers. Plus, he hasn't had company while eating in… on second thoughts, best not to think about that amount of time at all.

The dinner itself is far from impressive _(it's not like he was expecting company),_ but the company more than makes up for it. The food manages to go cold while they're eating because of all the talking; about Balinor's eventless days, Hunith's life, but mostly about Merlin _(their_ _ **son**_ _, lords, Balinor can't quite believe it)._

Slowly, Balinor starts making a gradual realization. Hunith's mentioned that Merlin's currently living with Gaius, and he'd figured that the old coot would have left Camelot by now, but he can't help but wondering just _where_ Merlin is sending his letters from.

"Hunith," he starts slowly. "Just where does Gaius live?"

Hunith sends him an odd look. "I sure hope the loneliness hasn't made you forget too much. You know very well where Gaius lives."

"You – are you saying they're both in Camelot?"

"Yes."

Balinor abruptly chokes, resulting in an embarrassing, spluttering coughing fit. "Did you send our _magical_ son to _Camelot?_ The same Camelot where _magic_ is punishable by _death_?"

"I did," Hunith shoots back defensively. "His magic was spinning out of control; it was growing too strong and too fast. He needed help from someone who actually knew something about magic."

"So you sent him to Camelot?" Balinor repeats in disbelief, the fear of her leaving him being the only thing keeping him from yelling.

"Gaius helped you, didn't he?" Hunith replies smoothly. "He wouldn't have turned in Merlin to the king. Merlin… he's learnt so much since he came to Camelot. He's found a _purpose_."

Balinor twists his hands in his hair, a strange protective urge filling him even though he's never even met the boy. "Bloody hell, Hunith, what were you thinking?"

"I've kept him alive for almost two decades, haven't I? Don't you dare talk down to me on this matter." Her voice is abnormally cold, and Balinor feels panic flutter in his chest as she stands up _(is she leaving? Oh please, don't leave him, he'll happily beg on his knees if he has to)._ "Although, I more than understand your concern," she relents. "Now, to the reason why I came to find you; you and I are going to Camelot."

"I – what?"

"You want to meet your son, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but Hunith… you do realize that I remain a wanted man? As in, leaving the kingdom wasn't enough to remain undetected, and you suggest I just… walk straight into the kingdom that wants me dead?"

"That's the general idea, yes. Besides," she smiles and lightly tugs at his rugged beard, "I highly doubt anyone would recognize you."

Balinor harrumphs even as he feels his resolve wavering. Damn it, twenty years later and the woman still got him wrapped around her little finger. He certainly hopes his son doesn't take after his mother regarding this.

"Good lords, woman, fine. May I ask why I need to come to Camelot? I doubt the reason alone is to meet Merlin, even though he's the main reason."

"Ah. Trust me when I say he's in need of your… guidance. And your advice. And your specific set of skills. Merlin's a good lad, but he gets into the most troublesome situations – I'm afraid his letters are giving me as many grey hairs as he did when I saw him on daily basis…"

She flutters around in the cave as though she lives there, packing up provisions with alarming speed and grace. He blinks dumbly at her as she holds out one of the packs to him.

"Wait, we're leaving _now_?"

"We could always wait, if you'd like. Do you have any business you need to attend to?"

"Wipe that innocent look off your face, you know very well I don't," Balinor mutters as he hefts the pack onto his back. "I'm ready to go."

"That's lovely, dear," Hunith tells him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before marching them out of the cave. "It was ridiculously hard to find you, I'm telling you, but now that I _have_ found you I'm eager to get to Camelot."

Speaking of… "How exactly _did_ you find me, then?"

Hunith smiles at him again, and Balinor's heart seems to do a strange happy dance. Wrapped around her finger, indeed.

* * *

 **Merlin will be introduced in chapter two, not to worry!**

 **Also, speaking of Balinor, does anyone have any recommendations regarding gen fanfictions where Balinor is, oh I don't know, _not dead_? So far I've read about two fics where he's alive (and in one of them he was only alive long enough to be burned at the stake, so it wasn't exactly any happy-sappy-mushy-family-bonding-time).**

 **Please leave me a review? I've got a math test tomorrow (which I'm bound to fail), so I'd love some happiness the day before my doom. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Big hugs to those who reviewed and started following this story - you guys are awesome! Granted, the math test took the fastest way straight down to hell, but it's okay; your reviews more than made up for it. :)**

* * *

As it turns out, Hunith had _(somehow)_ managed to figure out that Gaius knew where he lived, and as a result decided to find out for herself as well.

"I sent him a very specific letter," she had explained, "Which may or may not have been a tad unsettling letter, and since his reply pretty much confirmed it but he refused to tell me your location, I decided to travel to Camelot in order to convince him to tell me face to face. Oh don't look at me like that, Balinor, it wasn't any threats promising pain and death – I was just highly convincing."

Since Gaius can look Uther bloody Pendragon in the face and lie without blinking, he doesn't want to know how _convincing_ she was in order to get the old physician to tell her the truth.

Hunith's tired, and with good reason; first she journeyed to from Ealdor to Camelot in order to give Gaius a piece of mind, then walked through the wilderness to find her son's father, and now she's walking straight back to Camelot, almost reluctant to even stop for the night _(Balinor pointedly pretended to be dead on his feet in order to get the woman to rest)._

It's past noon when the white towers of Camelot enter their sight, and Balinor feels the air leave him in a whoosh. Once upon a time the reaction would have been one of awe, but now it holds nothing but anger and pain. Hunith squeezes his forearm in silent support before they walk closer to the gates.

"Hunith, perhaps we shouldn't," he blurts out in a hushed voice. "You can go in and fetch Merlin while I wait here; I still have a bounty on my head. I'll put the both of you in danger by even standing close to you." Hell, that was the very reason why he left Ealdor in the first place – so she could have a safe life _(although, his mind points out drily, that didn't really work out as planned, now did it?)._

"It's been over twenty years since anyone saw you last, dear, why on earth would anyone expect you to come back now?" Hunith asks, patiently tugging at his arm to get him to walk faster again. "Besides, do you see the guards at the gates? They look about half our age; there's no way they would recognize you. I don't think Uther himself would know you; he's not exactly good at spotting sorcerers in his home, thank the gods for that."

Nevertheless, he's as tense as a bowstring when they walk through the gates, no doubt pulling off the inconspicuous look bloody perfectly. However, none of the guards spare him as much as a passing glance.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she smiles as they mix with the townspeople in the streets.

"Uh-huh," is the only reply he's got, because now that he doesn't worry about _entering_ Camelot anymore, he finally starts worrying about _meeting_ his son. Whom he didn't even know existed, and who had to grow up without a father _(gods know bastards don't have an easy life, why on earth would Merlin even want to meet him?)_ "What if he hates me?" Balinor asks, feeling his hands sweating and heart thudding.

He's being ridiculous again and he can't help it.

From the look Hunith's giving him, she finds him ridiculous too. "Balinor..."

"Have you even told him I'm coming? Oh no, I know that face, you haven't. _Hunith_!"

"I didn't want him to spend days panicking before he even met you!"

"Oh, so now he's panicking at the very thought of meeting me? That's a fantastic sign!"

" _You're_ panicking at the thought of meeting him, dear."

"...Fair enough."

Now they leave the streets _(he notices Hunith had skilfully kept him from the courtyard, where all the executions had taken –and take – place)_ and enter a familiar corridor, eventually leading to the physician's chambers. She doesn't give him time to get cold feet and immediately walk up to the door to knock. The door is opened by Gaius, who looks decidedly unsurprised to see them yet raises his infamous eyebrow. He shuffles to the side and bids them to come in.

"It's good to see you again; both of you," Gaius says. "Although I'd love for the circumstances to be different – as in circumstances where your presence would not get us all killed."

"Sorry to disappoint," Balinor replies, standing still for a moment before gripping Gaius' arm in a heartfelt greeting. The man seems frail, so old compared to the image of Gaius he remembers, hair white and face carved with deep lines.

Gaius clears his throat. "I assume you must be hungry; please, sit. I'm afraid Merlin isn't home right now, although I've scheduled for him to have a day off in order to help me with chores."

"He gets days off from work in order to do more work?"

"It's a working system."

They sit down at the table and Gaius serves them soup – he decides he's spent far too much time eating whatever he finds, because for once the old coot's food actually tastes good _(Hunith tells him it's just because he used to be spoilt rotten and didn't want to eat anything except for the very best)._

"Do you want me to give you something for the nerves?" Gaius asks pointedly as he takes in Balinor's shaky appearance.

"I don't think I want to be drugged to the gills the first time I meet my son," Balinor replies drily.

"He's been insufferable," Hunith tells Gaius, "I'm starting to think I shouldn't have told him he has a son at all, and just dragged him to Camelot and locked him in a room with Merlin."

"And then Merlin's first impression of his father would have been said father fainting," Gaius answers calmly and Hunith hums in agreement. Balinor doesn't have time or strength to feel offended.

A quarter of an hour later the door is opened again, abruptly cutting off their conversation. A gangly boy with a mop of dark hair stumbles inside, carrying a wobbling stack of books in his arms while struggling to shut the door.

"Gaius, did you know the library has five different volumes on the advantages and disadvantages – mother!" The book pile tips to the side and the boy tips with it in order to catch the books, somehow spinning around and deposing them on a nearby table without dropping them or himself. He strides forwards with a grin _(leaving the book pile to keep wobbling on the edge of the table in peace)_ and Hunith's away from the dining table, quick to meet her son with a hug.

"Goodness, Merlin, don't they have any food in Camelot?" she grumbles as she pinches his side, clearly displeased with the lack of fat.

"Good to see you too, mother," Merlin quips before leaning away, smile suddenly replaced by a frown. "What brings you here? Is everything alright?"

"Nothing's wrong with me or Ealdor," she assures him. "I'm here to help you, really… There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Merlin looks up at Balinor as though noticing him only now, giving him a quick smile. Balinor doesn't remember rising from the table, but he's already standing.

"Merlin, this is Balinor," she says, giving her son a small push. "Balinor, this is Merlin."

"Pleasure to meet you," Merlin says, holding out a hand in greeting _(he's quite tall; about as tall as Balinor, but certainly not as broad shouldered, and Balinor recognizes the ears as his own father's, something that makes him strangely pleased, and -)._

"The pleasure is mine," Balinor finally says as he grips Merlin's hand, the pause long enough to be noticeable. He holds onto the hand a little bit too long, which is certainly noticeable, and Balinor silently curses his own social incapacities. At least no one can blame him for not being socially grateful _(not anymore_ ) after living in a cave for twenty years.

"I believe I have my rounds to make," Gaius says out of the blue, stepping away from the table and moving towards the door.

Merlin throws a befuddled look after the man. "Wasn't I supposed to –"

"Stay, Merlin."

The boy makes a face and mutters something that sounds like _"not a bloody_ _ **dog**_ _",_ and in the next second Gaius has left the three of them alone.

"Well," Hunith says, stepping forward. "Balinor can help you with what you mentioned in your letter – you can trust him. He has my complete trust."

Merlin turns calculated eyes towards Balinor, as though he can look right through him. "Could you be a little more specific, mother?"

"He has a very specific set of magical talents," Hunith explains, and Merlin practically lights up in excitement at the mention of magic. "Behave, Merlin; we'll discuss the magical matters in a while. There's something else you should know."

She falls silent, apparently far more hesitant to tell Merlin than she was about telling Balinor. Merlin's eyes dart between them and he carefully prods his mother. "Mum?"

"Alright, let's start this over," Hunith mutters before raising her voice again; "Merlin, this is Balinor. Your father."

Merlin doesn't move a muscle, only stares at his mother for a long while before snapping his head around to look at Balinor, still without saying a word. His eyes narrow slightly as he gazes at his father, head cocked to the side as though he's looking at a particularly strange dissected frog. He shoots yet another questioning look at his mother, who calmly nods at whatever silent question he's asking.

"Where were you?" Merlin finally asks him, voice devoid of any emotions except for caution.

Balinor swallows nervously. "I had fled from the fires of Camelot. Uther's men were looking for me; I had to leave Ealdor to keep your mother safe. Had I known she was…" He cuts himself off and tries to not sound as though he's making up excuses.

"You didn't know I existed?" Merlin guesses.

"No. And I can't begin to say how sorry I am that I wasn't there."

Merlin stares at him some more _(if it weren't for the eyes that remained blue, Balinor would have been sure he's using magic to see how sincere he is)._ Suddenly a bright smile spread over his face again, as though the suspicious frown hadn't existed at all, and he holds out his hand once more. "I think we need to do this again," he says, "Hello, father. I'm Merlin; it's good to meet you."

Balinor lets out a slight chuckle and grasps the offered hand. "I don't know what it is to have a son."

"Or I a father," Merlin replies, and Balinor dimly notes that he's mirroring his son's grin, and at their side Hunith's face is smiling – they're all smiling like fools, and lord, what does he do now then? He's quite sure a hug is moving too fast; father or not, he doubts the boy would want a man who's practically _(literally)_ a stranger to go around hugging him.

"Now, mother said something about discussing the magical matters in just a little while?" Merlin urges hopefully and Hunith swats his arm.

"He has no little to none amount of patience," she explains, "He gets that from you."

"I heard you're a warlock," Balinor notes.

"Balinor is a dragonlord," Hunith continues raptly, turned towards Merlin. "I think you know how he can help you."

"…Not really, no. I can take my guesses, but I've never even heard dragonlords," after a hesitant pause he adds an apologizing; "Sorry."

"A dragonlord shares a bond with dragons, for we are kin," Balinor explains slowly, giving Hunith a long look. "I understand Hunith means this is the 'specific set of skills' I have that you need – I'd love to know what on earth she's talking about."

Hunith deliberately ignores him. "And when a dragonlord commands a dragon, the dragon must obey."

"There's quite a few ethical rules about the commands, I can't walk around abusing my power –"

"So I trust you know why I thought his area of expertise was quite useful."

"Oh," Merlin says and beams yet again, "That certainly makes things easier."

"Pardon me for asking, but what makes what easier?"

"Ah, well," Merlin shrugs, "There's sort of a dragon imprisoned under the castle, whom I may or may not have promised to release and I'm _pretty_ sure he's going to go on a rampage when I do, and he absolutely refuses to promise that he won't attack anyone."

The unsteady book pile left on the table finally gives up the fight to remain standing and crashes to the floor, and Balinor finds the timing highly ridiculous.

* * *

 **Aaaand next up is the overgrown lizard under the castle.**

 **So I'm pretty sure Balinor knew that Kilgharrah was still alive and captured (unless my memory fails me), but I'm going with that he knows Kilgharrah was imprisoned but is unsure whether or not the dragon's still alive. Because reasons.**

 **As always, reviews equal virtual chocolate cookies!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I just realized something I didn't write in the last chapter's A/N: delayed thanks for the fic recs I got after asking for fics where Balinor is not-hella-dead! I've had lots of lovely stuff to read and I'm very happy for the fics you recommended.**

 **Furthermore, of course, lots of love for the response to chapter two - you guys rock! :)**

* * *

They spend the day together, talking until the daylight fades away and Merlin lights the candles with a wave of his hand, and then they talk some more until the night grows old and they're all ready to fall asleep sitting up.

There's some arguing regarding who should sleep where; Merlin insists Hunith should take his bed while she refuses to "steal her son's room" and Balinor offers to sleep on the floor which both Merlin and Hunith immediately object to. Gaius finally throws his hands up in the air, hair in disarray and looking ready to kick them all out on the street, before declaring that _he_ will take Merlin's bed, so the family of three can sleep in the same room. In the end, Hunith sleeps in the physician's own bed while Merlin and Balinor sleep on the patient cots.

In the morning Balinor's not entirely sure why the sleeping arrangement was such an important thing.

Balinor and Hunith are eating a late breakfast _(Gaius tinkering with various potions and Merlin still sprawled on the cot facedown)_ when the door is suddenly slammed open.

"Merlin!" a young man bellows, blonde hair a tussled mess and only half dressed in black trousers and a white shirt. "Gaius, where is that useless idiot ward of yours?"

Balinor can feel his ire rising and clenches his fist around his spoon, ready to give this boy a tongue lashing _(really, who barges into someone's home and proceeds to insult its inhabitants?)_

"I'm here, you bloody blind dollophead," Merlin calls out, voice muffled by the pillow he's pressing his face against.

"Well don't just stay there, get up, you lazy moron," the blonde boy replies with a longsuffering sigh. "Unless you want to start the new day in the stocks – oh wait; the new day is already _started_ , because you _overslept_. _**Again**_."

"'m coming," Merlin mutters and rolls down from the cot, hitting the floor with a startled yelp.

The newcomer rolls his eyes and then focuses on the two sitting by their dinner table, as though noticing them just now even though they're bloody right in front of him.

"Oh, hello Hunith! I didn't see you there, but it's lovely to meet again."

"Not very observant, is he?" Balinor remarks scathingly.

"Likewise, Arthur," Hunith replies with a kind smile, nonchalantly kicking Balinor in the shin.

"Don't bother, mother," Merlin sighs as he drags himself off the floor. "It's never lovely to meet Arthur."

"Honestly, Merlin, you ought to be happy to be graced by my presence," Arthur sniffs. "Anyone else would pay to be granted the honour of serving the prince of Camelot."

Balinor chokes on the porridge and Hunith sympathetically thumps him in the back. Wait – _prince of Camelot?_

"Once again I am impressed by your extreme stupidity when it comes to how the world functions," Merlin says snidely, and what is he _doing_ , antagonizing Uther Pendragon's son like that, is he trying to get himself _killed,_ "It's not your presence they want, it's the payment – which, by the way, is kind of crap. I want a raise."

"Believe it or not, Merlin, but to earn a raise you'd actually have to _**earn**_ it."

"I think I earn it by putting up with you, sire."

Gaius pointedly clears his throat and Hunith stands up, Balinor following her.

"Ah," Merlin says and absently ties his neckerchief around his wrinkled shirt. "Some introductions are in order. Arthur, you've already met my mother," Arthur politely shakes her hand while smiling, "and this is my father," he halts briefly, clearly remembering that Balinor's name should not be used and he appears to be trying to come up with a new name, "…Bob. Father, this is Arthur Pendragon."

Balinor _(cringing slightly at his newly given name),_ obediently shakes Arthur's hand and if his grip is a little bit too tight, no one comments on it. Uther Pendragon's son is right in front of him and he doesn't know how to react – a child shouldn't be blamed for the actions of their father, but lords, Balinor wants to blame him anyway.

"Well," Arthur says, discreetly glancing down at his own underdressed state, "If you don't mind, I'm going to need Merlin now –"

"Oh, I mind," Balinor deadpans, voice anything but respectful. "I'd like a moment with my son. _Sire_."

Merlin sighs dramatically and says in a stage whisper; "Damn it, father, I need this job."

"I'm sure we can find another job somewhere else," Balinor replies in the same tone of mock whispering.

"Merlin would like to keep his job," Hunith scolds lightly, giving Arthur an apologetic smile.

"Merlin would have to do his job in order to keep his job."

"Merlin is standing right here," Merlin remarks sourly. "And go on, you prat, I'll catch up with you – and for the love of god, learning how to dress yourself would not be a bad thing to do."

To Balinor's surprise, the prince actually does as Merlin says _(after another long phrase of insults),_ leaving the room blessedly free of royals.

Merlin gives his father an expectant look. "Yes?"

"You… You're working for _Uther Pendragon's son_?" Balinor hisses. "Are you out of your mind?"

"That's the common belief, actually! People thinking I have some sort of mental disease actually makes it easier – I mean, who'd expect _me_ to be a sorcerer? Even the king has asked if I have some sort of mental affliction, and I answered 'probably' and he –"

"Just in what sort of scenario," Balinor starts, forcing his voice to sound even remotely calm, "would you get a chance to speak to the king?"

"I have a feeling I won't like the outcome of this conversation," Merlin backpedals, "You may ask mother or Gaius; I have a royal prat to dress and feed, bye for now."

Merlin hurries after the prince, and Balinor rubs at his temples, trying to force away the headache building up in his head. "Why do I have a feeling I can kiss goodbye to any hair on my head that isn't grey yet?"

"Oh, honey," Hunith says compassionately and pats his shoulder, "Get to know Merlin a little bit better and all your hair will be white in a matter of months."

 **oOoOo**

"Let me get this straight," Balinor says slowly as Merlin's finally returned from serving Arthur. "You want to go meet the dragon under the castle right away, even though it's barely dark outside. And let's just completely ignore the fact that there are _guards_ guarding the dragon's cave."

"Oh, please," Merlin dismisses easily as he straps a sword to his belt. "I've been sneaking past said guards since my first week in Camelot - it's not like they'll start noticing me _now_."

He had expected Hunith to back him up; after all, it's their son they're talking about, and he'd thought Hunith would be a protective and reasonable mother. "Come now, Balinor, I thought you'd be excited to see Kilgharrah again," she says _(is she actually siding with Merlin on this? Just... casually sneak past Camelot's security?)._

"Of course I want to see him again; of course I want him free. But what use are we to him if we get ourselves killed before we even reach the cave?"

"Where on earth did you get such a high opinion of Camelot's guard and their competence?" Merlin asks, sounding honestly curious.

"Balinor, so help me, if you don't follow your son and stop bickering in my home I will make sure your next dinner will have unfortunate consequences," Gaius warns, appearing to be at his wits' end as he tries to focus on his work.

Merlin sends the old man a guilty look. "Sorry, Gaius. We'll leave now."

Hunith gives Balinor an encouraging push to get his feet moving, and in the matter of seconds they're walking through the empty corridors of the castle. Merlin calmly leads them into an alcove when a group of guards pass them, and then marches further down in the castle with an ease that clearly shows he's done this before. He grabs a torch from the wall _(after having distracted some more guards with a casual magic trick)_ and starts walking down a dark stairwell.

And Balinor... Balinor can feel his old friend down there; feel the ancient magic both as a slap in the face and as a warm, welcoming embrace.

"You bring company, young warlock," Kilgharrah's voice greets them and Balinor takes in the vast, damp cave that has been the dragon's prison for the last twenty years. A dragon doesn't belong shackled in a place like this.

"Surprise," Merlin says, and Balinor's not entirely sure whether the exaggerated cheer in his voice is fully sarcastic or not. "But then again, I hardly need to introduce you to each other, now do I?"

Balinor steps past Merlin to stand at the ledge, staring up at his old friend. Kilgharrah looks back at him, expression not betraying whatever emotion he's feeling. "It's been some time, Balinor," the dragon finally says, shifting and causing the long chain at his ankle to rustle loudly.

Balinor's throat tightens at the sight, not sure if it's in anger, guilt or sadness _(most likely a combination of all three)._ "It has," he agrees, thankful that his voice holds. "I thought Uther had you killed long ago."

Kilgharrah scoffs slightly. "The tyrant king wouldn't kill his trophy without reason; don't delude yourself, dragonlord."

"Oh don't look so gloomy," Balinor says. "And don't you dare blame me; you were hardly the only one who was betrayed. Besides, we're here to free you."

Kilgharrah doesn't look particularly surprised, per say, but he's unable to suppress the shudder that spreads through his large body at the mention of freedom. He shifts his golden gaze to the cheekily grinning Merlin and narrows his eyes at him. "Bringing a dragonlord in order to make sure I don't attack Camelot," he states, sounding reluctantly impressed. "I must admit it was a good plan."

"Although I'd love to get some credit for once, I can't say this was thanks to me," Merlin shrugs, "Mother went and fetched him and got him here."

"Ah," Kilgharrah says, "I thought the random boost of intelligence was highly out of character for you."

"I take offence to that," Merlin informs him.

Balinor decides to interrupt them before they can get started on an actual argument. "Kilgharrah, what sort of enchantment is over those chains? Or more importantly, how the hell do we break the chain?"

"I'm quite sure your son has come prepared," Kilgharrah notes wryly, nodding at the sword at Merlin's waist. "I don't need to take a closer look at the sword to know it is magical – the fact that Merlin carries a sword at all is a clue; the young warlock has few talents, and the art of sword fighting is definitely not one of them."

Merlin frowns. "Why the hell are you insulting me when I'm the one who's holding the key to your freedom? You should be kissing the ground at my feet."

"Careful, little warlock; you don't think I can obliterate you within seconds?"

"I thought we'd already confirmed that you can't - you've already attempted to fry me alive, and if you try to squash me I'll just run up the stairs."

"You've tried _what_?" Balinor exclaims, spinning around to glare at the dragon who doesn't even have the decency to look a little bit guilty.

"Your son is very annoying," Kilgharrah tell him in a matter of fact voice.

"Your _dragon_ is annoying," Merlin shoots back. "Not to mention verbally disadvantaged; poor thing can't give you a bloody straight answer and keeps sprouting about bloody prophesies."

"Ah. Damn it, Kilgharrah, still with the prophecies?"

The dragon snorts impatiently, causing a thin trail of smoke to steam from his nostrils. "I believe we've tried settling our differences when it comes to prophecies before; there's hardly a need to start arguing about it again. Merlin – the sword?"

"Right; as you've so kindly pointed out, I've gotten my hands on the sword of a knight of Medhir. Are we freeing you now or do you want some time alone to say goodbye to this place?"

"Where the _hell_ did you get a sword of Medhir?*" Balinor asks.

"It's a long story, let's not get caught up in the details; what matters is that I have the bloody sword, and Kilgharrah's already beaten the spell into my poor head. Repeatedly."

"Alright then," the dragonlord mutters and watches as Merlin carefully climbs down from the ledge and eventually reaches the dragon's leg. He hefts the sword into his hands and nods quickly at his father.

Balinor takes a deep breath and searches for the ancient magic trapped inside him. It comes to him easily and he opens his mouth to roar, magic flowing through his veins and making him feel more alive than he has in years, every cell tingling with power. He roars good and long, making the command secure and not leaving any loopholes for Kilgharrah to take advantage of _(although he'd_ _ **love**_ _to see Uther die by dragon's fire, he can grudgingly admit that not every civilian in Camelot should pay the prize for what their king has done)._

When he's done he gives Merlin a responding nod, and the boy lifts the sword over his head. With a powerful incantation of his own and a flash of bright gold eyes, the sword sinks through the mighty chain.

Kilgharrah roars loud and clear, and immediately lifts his heavy wings. He puffs out a blazing fire into the air _(to Balinor he seems more like an excited puppy than a fearsome dragon, but he's pretty sure he's a bit biased)_ , crouches down and then takes off.

The dragon has never been one for goodbyes, preferring dramatic exits as well as entrances, and soon he's gone. They can hear the flapping of his wings for a long while, before even that disappears into the night.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Merlin shouts after him and then grins at his father.

"Bloody dragon," Balinor complains – he'd actually wanted to speak to his old friend after twenty years, damn it. "He'll be back sooner or later, making sure he arrives at a most inconvenient time."

Merlin claps his hands together, somehow managing to avoid cutting off his fingers with the sword. "Anyway; your dragonlord voice was absolutely wicked – can you teach me how to do that?"

* * *

 ***Oh, excellent question, Balinor; where the hell did you find that sword, Merlin?**

 **...I gave myself the liberty to ignore canon again, and let's just say he randomly found the sword _somewhere_.** **If Arthur gets to pull magical swords from rocks Merlin gets to ignore canon and find magical swords by himself.** **And since planning is not a part of me, this will get a bit longer than three chapters - not by much, but a plotbunny smacked me in the face and I want to add something else to this story as well.**

 **Reviews mean fuel for kick-starting the writing process! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Good lord, this took longer to publish than expected? My apologizes; please refrain from throwing tomatoes at me. Anyway - this is actually the last chapter! I could probably make it longer, but I thought it'd be best if I just ended it here, before the plot grows boring and you all hate me.**

* * *

"So I can't help thinking about something you said…"

"No, Merlin, there _still_ isn't any way to master the dragonlord abilities unless you feel like giving me an early death."

"Thank you for thinking so highly of me; obviously I'd rather be able to boss around Kilgharrah than have a father," Merlin says scathingly as they finally enter the safety of the physician's chambers. "Anyway, that's not what I was going to ask – oh, evening mother, Gaius. All went well; Kilgharrah's free, no dragon is currently attacking the kingdom, and as an extra bonus we didn't get caught."

"I'm glad to hear that," Hunith replies from her position at the work bench, where she's helping Gaius with his herbs.

"It's only a matter of time before someone discovers his disappearance," Gaius remarks darkly. "We're lucky if this doesn't spark another witch hunt."

Merlin sighs. "Go to sleep, Gaius, you get grumpy when you're tired."

Gaius raises a highly disapproving eyebrow at his ward, who skilfully avoids said eyebrow by turning around to chatter to his mother. Nonetheless, the physician does retire within a few minutes _(Balinor feels a brief stab of guilt, since they're the ones depriving the old man of both sleep and peace)_ and Balinor takes a seat next to his family.

"Do I even want to know what you were going to ask me?" he asks wearily.

Merlin gives him a questioning look. "What?"

"A question _not_ related to the dragonlord heritage," Hunith supplies helpfully.

"Oh! Well, father, as I was saying; I noticed you and Kilgharrah weren't exactly on the same terms when it comes to prophecies."

Balinor winces slightly. "Right. _Prophecies_. Ahem; first of all, Kilgharrah is very old and very, very wise; he has his reasons for his absolute trust in the prophecies. But because of his own ability to see which path has the highest possibility to come true, he's got a bad habit of… discarding any other possibility."

"So no destiny is set in stone?" Merlin asks, eyes shining with something that makes Balinor feel quite uneasy.

"I don't know what Kilgharrah's told you," he states slowly, "but while I advise you to listen to your own heart, I warn you against taking his words for granted. There is a reason why he's the Great dragon, and his warnings should not be ignored."

"In other words, it's _not_ set in stone," Merlin clarifies cheerily.

"That's not exactly what I –"

"That's great! Mother, is it too late to visit her now?"

Hunith looks at her son, gaze filled with both fondness and exasperation. "Yes, it is _far_ too late to visit a lady, but I also doubt that's going to stop you."

"Hold on, what lady?" Balinor asks.

"She's a friend of mine," Merlin explains quickly as he pulls on his jacket again. "She's got magic, but since both Gaius and Kilgharrah are paranoid old coots, they've both strongly advised me against helping her." Merlin halts mid step and throws Balinor a hesitant look. "Do… do you think I should refrain from telling her?"

Balinor realizes briefly that good lord, this is the first time his son asks him a question that's actually a father-son related question _(his son is asking him for advice, and his mind stutters because hell – he should get this one right))._ "I think," he says slowly, "that letting a girl live in fear and loneliness in a kingdom that hates magic would cause greater grief than helping her. But since I don't know her and Kilgharrah's warned you, I'm afraid you'll have to make the final decision. Merlin, do you trust her?"

Merlin nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "I trust her," he says solemnly, and in the moment he sounds far older than he is, as though he's making a decision that could change everything. Then he smiles a bright, goofy grin, and the moment is gone. "Morgana will be so happy – that is, after she's teared me a new one for not telling her before."

Hunith's giving Balinor a proud smile _(a smile that almost manages to distract Balinor from something very important)._

"Wait," Balinor says, something akin to dread filling him, "did you say Morgana? As in _Lady_ Morgana?"

"Yep!" Merlin relies sunnily, "Thanks, don't wait up!" And with that, the boy's out of the door _(ignoring Balinor calling his name after him)._

"Lady Morgana as in the _king's ward_?" Balinor continues faintly. "The one Merlin was talking about earlier?"

"Lady Morgana as in the woman who rides out to fight for a peasant village," Hunith declares lightly. "Not to mention she's a good friend of Merlin, and a very good woman."

"Lady Morgana as in _Uther Pendragon's_ ward."

"Lady Morgana as in the king's ward," Hunith confirms.

"Oh, god," Balinor lets his head thud against the desk. "Is he sneaking into the room of the king's ward in order to tell her of his own magic?"

"Yes," Hunith answers calmly _(and lords, how the hell can she be so_ _ **calm**_ _about this?)._ "Balinor, dear, please lift your head from the workbench. Your hair is seconds away from catching fire."

 **oOoOo**

"He's going to get himself executed and it won't even be because of his magic," Balinor moans the next morning.

"So you've said," Hunith hums noncommittally and pushes the bowl of porridge towards him.

"We're going to have to smuggle him out of Camelot."

"If you're going to do any smuggling at all, you need to eat."

Balinor stares gloomily at the porridge in front of him. "I don't know if it's just nerves, but somehow this looks even less appetizing than usual."

Gaius whacks him over the head, like he's a disrespectful schoolboy rather than an adult dragonlord. "Be quiet and eat your breakfast," the physician snaps, an unordinary tone of nervousness in his voice. Huh. Looks like Balinor isn't the only one about to have a heart attack because of Merlin's continued absence.

"Our son has spent the night with the king's ward," Balinor continues pitifully, "most likely performing several magic tricks – in the _king's ward's chambers._ _After_ he'd released a dragon. Hunith, there are so many illegal things happening it's not even funny."

"Merlin's very existence is considered illegal," Hunith rolls her eyes, "And yet, he's still alive."

The door is pushed open by a smiling, bleary eyed Merlin who greets them with a chirping "Morning," before snagging a piece of bread.

"What on earth were you thinking, staying out all night?" Balinor thunders _(or as close to thundering as you can get without catching unwanted attention, and thereby getting his son escorted to the dungeons)._

Merlin blinks, as if confused by the turn of events. "I – "

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Releasing the dragon was risky enough, and last night was far over the limit when it comes to suicidal stupidity."

"Will always told me it was mothers who got mad when you stayed out all night," Merlin quips weakly.

"Your father is trying to make up for years of absence," Hunith explains casually, "He's trying to figure out how to be a parent."

"This isn't funny, Hunith."

Her eyes soften and she gives him another comforting pat on the shoulder. "You're right. Merlin, spending the night with a lady, no matter her status, is highly inappropriate. Especially since this is the ward of a paranoid king, known for his hasty executions."

"We didn't do anything _inappropriate_ ," Merlin objects meekly, looking chastened by his mother's light scolding. "I just… she wanted to know some more about magic, that's all."

"Oh, that's – that's lovely," Balinor agrees shrilly, "What a wonderful explanation for the king: oh, don't worry sire, I wasn't threatening your precious ward's _virtue_ , I was only teaching her a little bit of _magic_ , you see, sire."

"My voice is hardly that high-pitched," Merlin mutters.

Balinor has a biting comeback at the tip of his tongue, before he's rudely interrupted by a roared version of his name. He instinctively slaps his hands over his ears before realizing that the roar was in mind speech.

"Excuse me," Balinor snaps _(giving Merlin a this-isn't-over-yet glare)_ and turns away from them, "I've got a pissed off dragon trying to get my attention."

" _What the hell is it?"_ he sends back to Kilgharrah, tuning out the conversation in the background.

" _Balinor,"_ Kilgharrah seethes, _"I leave for a few_ _ **hours**_ _and you've already managed to get your son to make a mess out of the prophecies?"_

" _What?"_

" _The_ _ **witch**_ _; the one destined to bring death to the Once and Future King – your son's charge."_

The now-familiar lump of dread in his gut grows in size. _"…When you say once and future – "_

" _Yes, I'm talking about_ _ **the**_ _prophecy of Emrys,"_ Kilgharrah snaps. " _And who knows what path will be chosen now that Merlin has allied himself with the witch?"_

" _Yes, yes, this sounds very serious and all, but what part does Merlin have in this drama?"_

" _Ah, I can see where Merlin gets his incompetence from,"_ Kilgharrah grumbles snidely. _"Merlin_ _ **is**_ _Emrys, you dull-witted fool."_

Balinor abruptly stumbles over air, the only thing keeping him from falling and getting a concussion being a gentle tug of magic from Merlin _(courtesy of freaking_ _ **Emrys**_ _)._ He absently wonders if it would have been better to get knocked out – at least that would have meant a few minutes of peace.

"Father?" Merlin inquires carefully and Balinor slowly turns to face him.

"So," he starts and clears his throat, "when exactly were you going to tell me you're bloody Emrys?"

"Oh," Merlin answers and shrugs dismissively, "I just… didn't think it was that important?"

"Important," Balinor echoes, and slumps against the wall while trying to stifle the hysterical giggles, "You didn't find it important. Hunith – Hunith, we've somehow managed to spawn a legend. Never mind my hair turning whiter than Gaius', I won't have any hair left within a week. He's… Our son is **Emrys**."

"Nonsense," Hunith says dismissively, "His name is Merlin."

"But – "

"Dear, I lugged him around for nine months and then spent hours pushing him out of my womb and then proceeded to raise him – if I say he's named Merlin, then he bloody well is a Merlin."

"Merlin sounds way nicer than Emrys," Merlin agrees gleefully and steals a bowl of the awful porridge from Gaius _(oh, hello Gaius – Balinor had completely forgotten about the man)._

Balinor opens his mouth to argue some more, but opts to simply look at the lad _(young and happy and inexperienced)_ and for the life of him Balinor can't find a trace of the oh-so-mighty Emrys of the legends.

"Whatever Kilgharrah just told you," Hunith murmurs quietly as Gaius gives their son a whack over the head, "remember what you said yesterday. No destiny is set in stone."

"To be fair," he remarks, "Merlin's the one who said that, not me."

"Oh hush, I thought it sounded nice."

They don't argue about it, because Balinor already knows he's giving in. "What, so we just… Overlook all the prophecies? Leave him to his own devices and let him try to find his own way?"

"Good god, no," Hunith snorts lightly, "What kind of vision do you have of being a parent? We won't spoon feed him century-old prophecies, no, but we'll be there for him, advise him, help him, and tear our hair and despair as he drives us mad. By the end of it we'll both be bald and wrinkly."

"Well," Balinor says, and thinks of his dark cave and cold nights and miserable loneliness eating at his soul, and then thinks of the happiness of the last few days, even overlooking the panic caused by his obviously insane family. "I suppose I have to accept my fate and embrace my future baldness."

"That's very brave of you," she tells him and gives him a quick kiss.

"There's an empty room right there if you need it," Gaius comments dryly from the table _(Balinor's sure the old coot had waited for any sort of affection just to pull that particular bad joke)._

Merlin looks generally scandalized. "That convenient empty room happens to be _my room_ , thank you very much."

"Thank you for the offer, Gaius, but we'll be fine," Hunith huffs and drags Balinor back to the table in order to finish their cold breakfast. He absently notes that the porridge looks just as awful as earlier, which is disappointing but not surprising.

Yes, he decides as he looks at his family bickering around the table. He's more than ready to embrace a life with the woman he loves and his newfound son _(his hair be damned; it seems like a small price to pay)._

* * *

 **Ta daaa! The end!**

 **Okay, confession time. You know last chapter when I said a plotbunny smacked me in the face, and I wanted to add it? Well, I didn't. Because first I was going to kill Arthur in the end, and then I changed it and decided to kill Balinor instead... And then I just settled for "ah, fuck it, if I want character!death and angsty endings I'll just watch the show". So there you go - happy ending instead!**

 **Reviews equal happiness and happiness makes me happy! :)**


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